"Okay, I guess we really should get back."

Rory blinked, rocketing back into reality at the change in Jess' tone - from excited ranting to warm acceptance. "Oh, wow! Late," she realized.

"Want me to drop you off, Cinders?"

"This is my car."

"I know, I'll walk back to Luke's - it's not far."

"You don't have to do that."

He shrugged. "I'm not in a rush."

"Okay then - drive, Parker!"

"Whatever you say, Penelope."

Rory let herself sink into the leather at her back; a fervent smile curled at the edges of her lips. She cast a coy glance across the small distance between them. Jess looked warmer, more genial, under the cool streetlamps than she could ever remember seeing him. He seemed content. Rory let her eyes close for a moment, soaking up the happy, unexpected atmosphere.

"Aurora, wake up - you still gotta get- whoa!"

The world shifted violently beneath her. Rory's eyes flew open as the force endeavored to throw her into Jess. She heard him curse sharply, spinning the wheel in a fierce attempt for control. A shrill, feline, cry resounded beside them, tyres screeched against the road, Rory gasped - high and breathless.

Finally the car came to a stop; turned around from how it should be, but undeniably in one unharmed piece. Rory could feel her seat belt too tight against her chest; a shallow bruise was forming between her breasts. She had been thrown backward into her seat, lungs flat against the back of her ribs; her breathing was ragged and hiccuping as she tried to fill them back up.

Jess was silent, hands - with white knuckles - shaking on the steering wheel.

Rory spluttered as she finally drew enough air into her body for sound. The noise snapped Jess into motion as though someone had tugged marionette strings attached to his spine.

"Rory." His voice had a frenetic quality to it that didn't sit well with the laconic persona he generally presented. "Rory - you okay?" He leaned over her - pulling his own seat belt to the hilt - his right hand gripping her shoulder.

She swallowed hard, nodding, raising her chin to look at him with wide, fragile eyes. "Did we hit it?"

Relief deluged his features; Jess physically deflated as he sank into his seat, his hand slipping down her arm until it held Rory's elbow. "I don't think so, roadkill doesn't make that much noise."

Rory nodded, relieved. They sat silently for a moment, trying to regroup. Suddenly laughter erupted from Rory's mouth - stuttering and discordant. Jess looked up, surprised, at the sound of it while Rory folded in on herself. Without knowing why he stumbled into his own fit of mirth.

"Oh God," she gasped, "we nearly crashed - and it was the one time you were actually paying attention to the road. Your hands were at ten and two!"

Jess rolled his eyes. He swung the car backward and slipped them into the right lane. Rory calmed herself as he started back toward her house.

"Jess?" she asked, her voice sober.

"Uh huh?"

"Are you okay?"

He smiled, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "Fine," he assured her, "still beats studying."

Rory was shocked as she asked: "You'd rather we got in an accident than studied?"

"Hey, if no one gets hurt..."

She tried not to smile. "You're impossible."

"And you're home," he replied, killing the headlights and slowing the car to a stop next to Lorelai's jeep. Jess slid out of the car, moving around to the passenger side; he arrived at Rory's door just as she stumbled out. Jess lifted his hand, the keys dangling from his pointer finger; he dropped them into Rory's upturned palm. "Alright, Wedemeyer, you better get inside."

"Yeah, but you're still owe me a thousand words on Shakespeare. We didn't even get through the first act of Othello."

"So add it to the list for next time."

She wrapped her arms around her chest and grinned. "Next time?"

He shrugged, his lips tilting upwards.

"Good night, Jess."

"Night, Rory."

She quickly climbed the few steps up to her porch. She stopped with the tips of her fingers on her front door; spinning she watched Jess head back to the diner, fading into the blue-black evening as he got farther away.

The house glowed warmly with thick, yellow light. Rory didn't bother trying to be quiet as she pushed open the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Lorelai was stretched across the couch with her feet tucked up beneath her. Half-empty candy packets littered the furniture and floor around her; the television was a low drone in the background, barely audible.

Lorelai craned towards the door, calling: "Rory, is that you?"

"No, it's your other daughter," Rory retorted, peeling off her coat.

"That can't be right. My other daughter doesn't stay out all night 'studying' with John Bender."

Rory's reply was deadpan: "Ha ha. It's ten-thirty."

"Practically time to get up again, don't bother going to bed, come watch Masterpiece Theatre."

"I prefer Alistair Cookie."

"Me too, but look - pretty dresses, petty social obligations, British people, it's almost like spying on my parents."

Rory moved around and wiggled onto the couch next to Lorelai. She propped her mother's knees up onto her thigh and settled in.

"Hey, Dean didn't call."

"Oh, good."

Lorelai quirked a disapproving eyebrow, reaching out to poke Rory in the ribs.

It took a moment for the implication of what she had said to fully register in Rory's mind. Her brow furrowed. "You know what I mean. Not 'good' like I don't want him to call, just 'good' that your steadfast morals weren't compromised by not telling him where I was. I know how much that was bothering you," she teased. Rory patted Lorelai's knees condescendingly as she leaned forward to grab a stray Twizzler from the coffee table.

"So sarcastic; what did I do to deserve this?"

Rory shrugged, nibbling on the end of her candy. "Raised me this way. Okay, I love you." She leaned across for a quick kiss on the cheek, then jumped up from the couch. "I'm going to bed since it's so late and all. I know it's hardly worth it but I'll take those forty winks, even if I only have time for twenty of them."

Lorelai frowned, pouting. She complained: "You never used to be this cruel to me."

"It's that bad crowd I've been hanging out with. Tomorrow I start smoking. Night, mom."

"Night, babe. Remember, if you want kids to think you're cool, don't get the menthols!"

Rory closed her bedroom door behind her, flopping - fully clothed - onto her bed, kicking off her shoes. She was not tired at all. Something burned warm in her gut; it felt the way she thought liquor might, curling in her belly. She thought back over the hours since her mom had left her at Luke's; a smile tugged into the corners of her mouth. It was involuntary.

She knew that she should be shaken up by the accident-that-wasn't, but Rory couldn't clear her head enough for it to be anything other than funny. She rolled her neck back into the pillows, letting her body melt into the bed.

The room was dark and balmy; Rory fell asleep with a giddy lightness expanding in her chest.